


don't be kind to it, it will come back

by salvatorestjohn



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Electrocution, Elena Saves Enzo, Gen, Heavy Angst, Human Elena Gilbert, Pre-Canon, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-27 20:30:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20413858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salvatorestjohn/pseuds/salvatorestjohn
Summary: "Kid-free zone. Nothing for you to worry your little head about, Elena. It's where we do our experiments to find ways to help save kids like you, but who are sick and need something we don't have yet."All the things her dad has told her about this room echo in her head as she stares at the curtain as if hoping she can see right through it without having to actually move. Maybe she should have listened; if it's saving people's lives, that's all that matters.Her heart jumps into her throat as three of the lights flicker this time. Her eyes dart to them, only to be drawn wide, back to the curtain as the thrum spikes, like a jolt straight through her body. She's moving again before she can register what she's doing. The shadows have already faded when she reaches the curtain, the voice silent once more. Refusing to let herself be scared out of it, she quickly grabs the curtain and pulls it to the side.





	1. Chapter 1

Spending hours after school — and sometimes on weekends — at her dad's medical practice is never all that fun, and Elena can't imagine any seven-year-old enjoying it. There's the odd time that she can convince her mom and dad to let her go over to Bonnie's or even Caroline's house until they come to pick her up, but both of them apparently had things to do. 

She envies Jeremy for getting to spend almost every day over at Matt's house since a five-year-old running around the clinic wouldn't be good. Her dad's words. For once, she regrets being the quiet child.

Her ball is a blur of colours as she bounces it around the little corner of the clinic she's claimed as her own while she waits. It's only got one chair anyway.

Despite her parent's claims of it being an important day, only one person has walked in the entire time she's been here. Which feels like forever. She wouldn't mind being there so much if she actually had something to do.

She forces the ball to stop. Readjusting her hold on it, she presses her hands flat against either side right before pulling her arms back. It's possible she overestimates just how far, and she realizes that a second before she lets it go, but it's already out of her hands.

The ball hits the ground with a loud thump only to go flying back into the air. She reaches out to grab it again to stop it from knocking something over. It's already hitting the ground with another bounce, moving further away from her too quickly. 

She rushes after it just as it hits the edge of the first wooden step leading down into the basement, the noise dulling. Her eyes follow its journey down, watching it hit off every few stairs. Despite the little voice in the back of her head telling her to not to go down there, she follows it. 

By the time she reaches the bottom of the stairs, the ball's rolling away across the room, the noise echoing quietly off the walls. She should go and get it as fast as she can, she knows. Spending even a second longer than she has to down in the basement isn't a thought she likes, but neither is going further in. 

She peers around the wooden bannister, hoping it won't be as far as it sounds. Nothing.

Her eyes move over to the open area and quickly pick out the familiar colours of the ball that's now stopped, having rolled back towards her a few inches after hitting off the edge of the wall.

Pushing herself away from the stairs, she moves towards it. There's urgent tug in her stomach trying to pull her back. She ignores it and is nearly close enough to pick the ball up. Her eyes flick to her right for just a split second. 

The door at the very end of the hall is closed. It almost always is on the few times she's wandered down. The one time she asked what was behind it, her dad said it was a special experimentation room then hurried her back up the stairs. She never pushed it further. Just looking at the door unsettles her.

Maybe now, it has more to do with the sounds coming from it. It's like muffled screams echoing off the walls, bouncing around her and closing her in. Her heartbeat quickens as she looks back down at her ball, ready to grab it and run back up the stairs as fast as she can. 

It almost looks like it's moving. Vibrating, even, slowly being carried closer to her with each tiny bounce. Elena glances at the ground. There's a faint thrum underneath her feet. It had been barely noticeable at first due to her general fear of the basement. 

She's noticed it before. The vibrations underneath the ground, seeping through the wood of the stairs, sometimes even seeming to be in the walls. Even upstairs there's been the odd time where she's thought she saw something like vibrations creating circles in her glass of water when nothing is moving to cause it.

She had been sitting in the chair behind the desk to finish part of her homework once when the lights flickered, staying off for longer than they should have. A power surge, her dad had brushed it off. He never explained why or what could have possibly caused it in the middle of what felt like summer. He just told her to ignore it.

Her eyes move back up to the door ahead of her. Staring at it, it almost seems like it's shaking, threatening to snap free of its hinges. It's her imagination, she knows deep down.

But she also knows that not once in her life has she been inside of that room, or even seen what's beyond the door. 

The ball completely forgotten about in her mind, she starts to walk forward. Her steps are slow and cautious, her heart louder as it pounds in her chest and ears. The closer she gets, her eyes staying glued to the dark grey, peeling door, the more she's sure she isn't imagining that echo of a scream.

It's quiet, buried underneath the thrum that seems to build around her with each step she takes, pulsing underneath her skin and in her chest. But it's there. Her heart jumps too many beats, tumbling in her chest.

When she reaches the door though, she doesn't stop. She hesitates, her fingers curling around the handle. A little voice in the back of her mind urges her forward and she swallows down the fear and pushes until the door is opening. 

She hadn't realized just how dark the rest of the basement is until the bright light from the room hits her. The door slowly swings all the way open and she sucks in a breath, taking in what she can see.

Bright, shining lights hang above. One flickers.

The walls are pure white, as are the curtains closing off various sections of the room. Everything's pristine, so _clean _and exactly how the rest of the clinic looks. It shouldn't be unsettling, and yet, that feeling doesn't shake, clinging firmly to her like a blanket of protection.

Taking slow, careful steps, Elena pushes herself to walk further in, letting go of the door. The thrum is practically reverberating throughout her entire body, her skin tingling and her chest still rattling with the vibrations. It's accompanied by the noise of a spark, like a lightbulb blowing out over and over again.

She nearly goes running right back out of the room when that voice makes its appearance once more in the form of a muffled scream. It's so much louder now that she's in the room. She freezes in terror. Her eyes go to the curtain in front of her, drawn and keeping her from the source of the noise. 

_"Kid-free zone. Nothing for you to worry your little head about, Elena. It's where we do our experiments to find ways to help save kids like you, but who are sick and need something we don't have yet."_

All the things her dad has told her about this room echo in her head as she stares at the curtain as if hoping she can see right through it without having to actually move. Maybe she should have listened; if it's saving people's lives, that's all that matters.

Her heart jumps into her throat as three of the lights flicker this time. Her eyes dart to them, only to be drawn wide, back to the curtain as the thrum spikes, like a jolt straight through her body.

For a split second, something happens and shadows are outlined; a table, she thinks, what she's pretty sure is a person, something next to them—

The voice tries to scream again as the thrum persists, but it's still muffled, desperate and pained. She swallows down the nausea quickly scaling her throat, her head spinning. 

She's moving again before she can register what she's doing. The shadows have already faded when she reaches the curtain, the voice silent once more. Refusing to let herself be scared out of it, she quickly grabs the curtain and pulls it to the side.

Her heart nearly stops. She goes completely still, her fear taking over, turning to horror and pure fright. Her fingers tighten on the curtain as her chest does the same around her lungs. Each breath in is sharp and quick as she stares at the man.

He can't move an inch. There are leather straps circling his arms, legs and waist, connecting around the table to ensure that. The patches of skin on his arms where the leather is touching are all bubbling and red, as if burned or stung. 

Elena's more focused on how, despite being strapped down, he's writhing. The thrum is still going, pulsing right through her. His eyes are closed, she notices, his jaw clenched and the rest of his skin is glistening with sweat. 

Paralyzed, Elena can barely breathe, never mind move. Her eyes shift past the man, her heart thudding in her throat and in her head uncomfortably as she tries to swallow it down. 

The source of the loud thrumming becomes apparent when her eyes land on the machine next to the bed. It's big, and she's never seen one like it except for one time when she was in the hospital with her mom and dad; it was in one of the patient's room, though she had no idea what it was used for. 

There are too many dials for her to process, too many connecting wires and things for her to make sense of it other than the fact that it's making the loud noise. Her eyes follow along one of the tubes, intertwined with a thick wire. It leads straight into the man. 

They're both embedded deep in him along with too many others for her to count. Those two are in his neck, pushed too far under that she's able to see them pressing up against his skin uncomfortably.

The nausea hits again in waves and she nearly takes a step back. Her eyes are burning more and more the longer she stares. Her breaths are shallow and painful, and they only make her feel like she's going to throw up, but she forces the air down into her lungs anyway. 

One of the thicker wires sparks and she jumps. Then they're all doing it, the pulsing growing stronger and unbearable. The man convulses without barely moving, jerking up against the restraints.

Elena quickly takes a step back, her eyes widening. 

The straps don't budge even an inch and he collapses back onto the table. The pulsing drifts back to a dull beat that's perfectly in rhythm with her too-fast heart.

For a moment, she can't move. All she can do is stare at him in horror and terror, no idea what to do. The thought of running right out of the room and upstairs to get her dad for help crosses her mind. Then she realizes.

He probably already knows. It's his basement, how would he not be aware of the man being electrocuted in it?

She tries to swallow down the lump in her throat. Her foot moves back slowly to take another step closer to the door, considering the possibility of just leaving and pretending she didn't see a thing. Maybe she's imagining it. Maybe this is a nightmare.

The man's head rolls to the side, facing her. Elena freezes. 

She holds her breath. His eyes flicker open, still convulsing even as he slowly regains consciousness. To her horror, she realizes he must have passed out at some point, all of it too much for him to take. Volts of electricity are still coursing through his body. She can't but wonder how painful it must be. 

His eyes close briefly before they flutter again, opening a little wider this time. Elena can't tell if he can see her or not. He should be able to, but it's almost as if he's staring at the ground, his gaze unfocused. 

His lips part a tiny bit, and she still doesn't dare breathe. That seems to be exactly what he's trying to do though; he makes a gasping sort of noise, trying to get even the smallest amount of air into his lungs, anything that will help. 

Their eyes meet and Elena's stomach flips right over, plummeting into the ground. Her nails are digging sharply into her palms, having curled into them by her sides some time ago without her noticing. 

There's a pause. No sound other than the relentless sparking of the machine as it fills the man will electricity, whirring away and thrumming as loud as ever. That, and the man's quiet, choked breathes, as well as her own heart drumming against her rib cage so insistently she worries it might be about to stop.

They just stare at each other. The man sucks in a breath. The air is quickly forced right back out of him before it's even fully in as he jerks up against the restraints violently. Elena gasps, jumping as the machine seems to shock him, harder than it's already been doing. 

She can only watch as he tries to fight against it, listen to the agonized scream that claws out of his throat. Her eyes quickly move to the machine, following over all over the wires. Maybe she can figure out if there's an off switch.

The bright sparks flying off of the wires stop her from getting too close and make it hard to read anything on the machine itself. Still, she tries. There's a flipped switch, right up the top, and she thinks it looks promising enough. 

The pulsing dies down again and the man collapses flat onto the table once more. Parts of him still twitch though, and sparks are still flying, the electricity still coursing. 

Determined, and trembling as the man tries to breathe in, Elena goes to move towards the machine, aiming to get around the table without a problem. The second she takes a step forward, the man's head rolls back towards her and their eyes lock again. She freezes out of fear alone, but then pushes herself to move again.

"Don't," he chokes out before she can get a step further. His voice breaks and he chokes on the one word, sucking in a ragged breath to try and fix it. He resorts to giving a slight shake of his head, holding her stare. 

Elena's eyebrows furrow in confusion, but she doesn't move. His eyes seem to dart away, somewhere over her shoulder. 

Before she can turn back to look, he catches her eyes again, making her focus on him alone. His eyelids flutter for a second, and she worries he might pass out again as drops of sweat roll down his face, more having formed from the last shock.

She almost thinks she can see blood on his neck and shirt but she doesn't want to be sure. 

"Go," he breathes out, the word intertwined with pain likes vines around a tree. "You have to..."

He doesn't manage to finish his sentence. His eyelids droop and the rest gets caught up in his throat in the form of another choked noise, another gasp for air. 

Elena wants to refuse. She nearly does. Her feet stay firmly where they are on the ground at first, even when she thinks about taking a step back, tries to make herself do just that. She can't tear her eyes away from the man.

He's clearly forcing his own eyes to stay open as long as he can, trying not to pass out again. He looks terrified at the thought, and so hurt in a way that she's never seen before, a way that she never thought possible. All she can think about doing is finding a way to switch off the machine, to stay and help him.

But he's caught her gaze again, staring right into her eyes. Something flickers in the back of her mind. Everything softens for a moment, turning fuzzy around the edges. A wave of calm washes over her briefly, replaced by urgency. One focused goal and nothing else, only that she should leave right now. She wants to leave.

Everything snaps back, sharpening instantly and dissolving the fuzzy cloud fogging her mind. She's already backing out of the room though, she realizes, now staring at the man from the doorway. Her hand's on the handle and she has no idea how it got there. 

The man doesn't look away. He just watches her at her, and she almost thinks he nods. Then she's pulling the door closed, letting it click into place as it had been before she came down. She moves away from it, taking slow steps backwards, her eyes staying focused on it.

She hesitates, falters, still trying to push through some sort of barrier in her head.

Her breath quickly rushes back to her and she straightens up as if hit by a jolt of electricity herself. She glances around, her eyebrows furrowing. She shouldn't have left the room. Her feet are already moving to go back to it. The man needs her help, why did she—

The stairs creak, loud and echoing in the almost silent basement. There's the sound of shoes against the ground, quick and approaching. A hand is on her shoulder before she can move, gently pulling her back and turning her around.

She looks up at her dad, her eyes wide. Without fully thinking about why, she makes sure her expression gives nothing away, keeping it as a mask of unknowing and childish curiosity. Entirely innocent and believable despite the terror enclosing around her heart that's still beating away quickly as if trying to break through. 

Her dad smiles down at her. Relief settles in her chest. 

"Go back upstairs, Elena," he tells her gently, but she hears it now. The slight quiver in his voice, the worry about her curiosity going too far. What she might find. "Basement's a kid-free zone, remember?"

Her stomach clenches. She presses her lips together and tries to push down the horrible feeling in her chest. 

She nods, smiling back at him. He picks up her ball, now right next to her, and places it in her hands. Not knowing what else to do, she obliges. She heads back up the stairs only to pause on the way. 

Her eyes go to the door. The thrum vibrating through the wooden planks of the stairs sends a wave of nausea shooting up through her again. She can still see the man in her head. Scared. In pain. Human. 

Her dad straightens up and she quickly continues up the stairs, her heart thundering in her chest. Is she just supposed to forget everything she saw? Pretend she never saw that man being tortured? Her stomach twists with guilt just at the thought. 

Somehow, she needs to help him. There has to be a way. Just flip a switch, untie the straps, and make sure no one is upstairs. It could work. She hopes it could work. One thing is for certain though.

She can't let her mom or dad know. There's a reason that man is in the basement of their clinic. A reason why it's a kid-free zone. Whatever it is, she makes a promise to herself as she sits back down in the chair in the corner of the room. Her dad walks back up the stairs a few moments later. He smiles at her as if nothing's wrong. She has to help that man escape.


	2. Chapter 2

Elena isn't surprised that she doesn't have to wait longer than until the next day for an opportunity to be presented to her. Once again, as soon as she's out of school, her mom picks her up and brings her back to the clinic. She's quick to rush back out again, leaving her with her dad. Something about a council meeting.

It does occur to her in the twenty minutes that she has to sit in one of the chairs, waiting for a good moment when she's sure her dad won't notice her slip away, that she has no idea what she's doing. Or why.

She doesn't know this man. For all she knows, there could be a really good reason why he's being held in the basement. Maybe he's a bad guy. 

She watches her dad from across the room as he talks to someone, both wearing bright grins. Something's different. She hadn't noticed it before, but something's off. Her feet are flat against the ground and she presses them harder, waiting.

Nothing. No faint thrum that pulses in her chest and ties her stomach in too many knots. Not even a slight vibration. 

Her heart feels like it flips, her stomach plummeting. That can't be a good sign. What if her dad noticed the door has been opened? He might have thought the man was trying to escape.

She presses her lips together tightly. The word makes her feel sick. Why does he need to escape? And how could her dad ever keep him there as a prisoner? He's the good guy. He saves people's lives, he's told her as much. But it didn't look like she was saving the man in the basement. Maybe she's just got it the wrong way around; a big misunderstanding.

"Elena, sweetie," her dad says, pulling her out of her thoughts. "I just have to go into the backroom to show Mayor Lockwood something for a few minutes. Do you want to come with us or do you want me to lock the door?"

This is it. Elena straightens in her seat, trying not to let it show on her face as she answers him without hesitation.

"I'll stay here," she says.

He smiles at her and nods before grabbing his keys and moving out from behind the desk to the door. He locks it up, flipping the sign temporarily. Elena's eyes follow him the entire way until he and Mayor Lockwood disappear into that backroom.

The door closes behind them, just as she had hoped it would. A part of her thinks she willed it to since she didn't see either of them touch it in the slightest. 

She doesn't spend another second dwelling on it. Instead, she hops off of her seat and rushes to the stairs. Her heartbeat's pounding louder in her ears with every quiet thud of her feet on the old wooden stairs. She's just glad they're not creaking loud enough to alert her dad. 

This could be a terrible idea, she thinks to herself as she reaches the bottom. Her dad could catch her. The man could turn out to be bad after all. Anything could go wrong. 

That doesn't stop her from heading straight for the door at the very back of the room. When she reaches it and is standing in front of it, however, is when she finally falters. Her hand's hovering mid-air, inches away from the handle. 

From the second she saw the man yesterday, to when she woke up this morning, and all through school, he's all she's been able to think about. Images of him strapped to that table have been flashing in her mind, refusing to be erased. The way he convulsed every time another surge of electricity went through him, all of the tubes and wires protruding from him. 

She isn't so sure if she's prepared to see all of that again. 

There's no thrum, she reminds herself. She can't hear the same muffled sounds that she could yesterday when she was standing in the exact same spot. That has to be a good sign. She's really dreading what it would mean otherwise.

Forcing herself to remember how much she hated seeing him in pain, she uses it to finish pushing the door open. She's met with those same bright lights and the abruptness of pure white all around her. It's not so much of a surprise to her anymore though. 

She pushes herself to move, taking careful steps inside. The only good thing is that she now knows what to expect. 

Her attention is immediately caught by the table in the middle of the room. Just like yesterday, the curtains are drawn around it, hiding what's going on behind it from view. She's still hoping that the lack of electricity pulsing through the room is a good sign. 

Moving towards it, she sucks in a deep breath, preparing herself all the same. She has to be fast if she's still sure about this. Her dad usually takes at least ten minutes when he's talking to Mayor Lockwood in the back room. Thirty at most. She can't count on having the full half-hour though, so any plan she's going to come up with, she needs to think of right now.

She stops in front of the curtain again but doesn't hesitate this time as her hands shake and she pulls it back. Her heart nearly stops again, and she freezes on instinct rather than out of fear.

He's still there. Although, considerably quieter now than he was yesterday. 

She takes a moment, trying to calm her heartbeat back down as she stares at him. His eyes are closed, but he isn't moving around or trying to break free. He's just laying there, completely still. His skin's even paler than she had thought it was before, she notices as well.

Her eyes move over him, taking him in. There are still tubes and wires lodged deep into various parts of his body, from the side of his neck to his hands, and she has to look away before she throws up at the one embedded into his right side. 

It takes her a moment to notice his left arm, but once she does, she blanches and nearly turns away. There's a tube sticking out of a vein running all the way down his arm. What's making her nauseous though is the dark red blood that's slowly draining through it and filling the bag it's connected to.

No wonder he's so pale. The bag's at least half-full. That can't be good for a person.

She hesitates, her eyes darting back to his face. Maybe if he's unconscious, it'll be easier for her to free him. She can just take everything out so that he can move, then leave, and once he wakes up, he'll be able to get out on his own.

In all honesty, she's mainly hoping that will work because she didn't think this far ahead, and the thought of actually talking to him scares her just a little.

Mind made up, her hands reach out towards the tube that's taking his blood. She isn't entirely sure what's going to happen when she pulls it out. There's a fifty-fifty chance of him continuing to bleed anyway and her being scarred for life or it just stopping completely. Personally, she'd prefer the latter.

She carefully takes the tube between her index finger and her thumb, just a couple inches down from where it's piercing his skin. Touching it feels weird, and she honestly expects to pass out just from knowing that there's still blood running through it underneath her fingers. And yet, she feels a little more at ease.

Not as squeamish as she was expecting to be. Maybe she's not so bad with blood after all.

Slowly, and with her heart racing in her ears, she begins to pull the tube out as gently as she can. She only gets about an inch out though before she forces herself to stop at the sound of a low groan. 

Frozen in place, she lifts her eyes back up to the man's face. His head is moving, rolling slowly over to face her. His eyelids are twitching, she notices in fear, and then fluttering open. He blinks, the action even slower, his eyes unfocused.

She stares back at him and doesn't dare move a muscle. He didn't try and hurt her yesterday, even when she got close to him. He actually seemed worried. And she has a feeling that her leaving the room at the exact right time yesterday to avoid being caught had something to do with him. She doesn't know how, but she can feel it. 

He blinks once more and something shifts in his eyes, finally focusing on her. She holds the air in her lungs but doesn't waver. They just stay there for a moment, her fingers still holding onto the tube.

"What are you doing?" he asks, his voice barely audible and scratchy. 

Elena forces herself to exhale, and says, "helping you."

His eyes close again, but he shakes his head. "No. Don't."

She frowns, her brow crumpling. Her eyes flick back down to the tube, her lips parting to protest. The blood is still draining out of him, the bag at least three-quarters full now. She doesn't know how much blood someone is allowed to lose, but she doesn't think that letting the bag fill would be good.

"But..." she falters, shaking her head slowly in confusion.

"I'm fine," he says, but he can't keep his eyes open long enough to be convincing. "Just...you need to go."

Elena hesitates to listen. If she leaves, he'll still be here, tied up and unable to escape. One day he was being electrocuted, the next, his blood's being drained from him. She dreads to think of what it'll be tomorrow if she doesn't help him.

"Why are you here?" she quietly asks instead. A part of her is scared of what the answer is going to be.

He blinks at her, something flickering across his face. Elena just holds his curious gaze, her head tilting.

"I...that doesn't matter," he says.

"But you're hurt," she argues gently, her brow furrowing even more. "Is my dad trying to help you? Is that why you're here?"

The man's lips part to answer her but he hesitates. Something flashes across his face now as he looks back at her, his eyes moving between both of hers. It softens a little as she just waits patiently for his answer, her head still tilted at an angle.

"No," he says gently. "Your dad is...I'm sure he's a good man. It's nothing for you to worry about."

His eyes stay focused on hers, unblinking now. Something in the front of her mind shifts as if a door opens. A light feeling washes over her entire body like a giant weight lifting off of her, and the edges of her mind go fuzzy.

"You should go," he tells her, his words slow and sharp in her mind. "Forget you ever saw me down here. And never come near this room again, no matter how curious you are."

Elena stares at him for a moment. Her feet go to step back and oblige his command. Then she blinks.

"But then I wouldn't be able to help you," she says, her frown growing. 

The man's brows draw together, a crease forming between them. She brushes off his confused stare as she continues.

"Why don't you want me to help you? Doesn't all of this hurt?"

She looks down at the tube, making her point. The skin on his arm somehow seems even paler now than it had just moments ago, the blood contrasting sickeningly against it. She imagines it has to be painful, especially now that the bag is so close to being full.

Her eyes move back up to look into his, wide and full of concern. He seems to hesitate to answer, his own eyes darting down to the tube as if it's given him away.

"No, it doesn't," he says, smiling gently at her. It's small though, and she can tell what his actual answer would be if he wasn't worried about how it would make her feel. 

"I'm seven," she tells him, "not an idiot. You can tell me the truth."

He frowns as best he can, the action weak and only further proving her right. He blinks once in surprise, another in uncertainty, and seems to try and debate with himself over her words on the third.

She just nods lightly and smiles back at him encouragingly.

"It hurts a little," he admits, "but I'm mostly numb to it by now. Really, I can barely feel it."

"So then it won't hurt if I pull this out?" she asks, throwing a glance back down at the tube. "You'll be okay?"

"No," he says without even thinking about it, too fast.

She frowns at him now and stops, having been about to start pulling it. Her fingers loosen on the tube for the first time since she took a hold of it. His expression softens again.

"Don't pull it out," he says gently. "Please. I don't want you to...to..."

His eyes start to flutter shut as he trails off, his voice becoming weaker. Her eyes widen, moving over his face. Panic quickly scales her throat, welling up from the pit in her stomach. 

"No," she says, shaking her head. "No, no, you have to stay awake. Please."

He doesn't respond. His eyes stay closed. She tries to listen carefully to his breathing, leaning a little closer. It's shallow and weak, his lips parted as he tries to breathe in even as he falls unconscious. 

Her eyes dart back down to the bag. It's full. But the blood is still making its way through the tube anyway, clogging it up.

Heart pounding loudly in her ears, she quickly resorts to her original plan. It'll still work. She's sure of it. It's simple enough.

Careful not to hurt him more, she starts to pull the tube out slowly. Her stomach clenches at the feel of pulling it from underneath his skin, but she keeps going, pressing her lips together to stop the queasy swaying in her stomach.

The tube slips out of his arm and Elena jumps back as his arm continues to bleed, a few drops spurting out. She falters as some leaks from the end of the tube onto her hands. It's a good thing that she's not squeamish after all.

She quickly lowers the bag onto the ground, setting the tube down on top of it. Then she looks back at his arm. She faintly wonders if she should do something. Maybe she can find something to close the wound. It's not really bleeding any more. She thinks that has something to do with the full bag of blood at her feet.

A noise drifts down from upstairs; footsteps above her, in the back room. Her heart leaps into her throat as reality knocks back into her. If she stays much longer, she could get caught. And she has a feeling that if that happens, she won't get another chance to free him.

"I'm sorry," she whispers to him. "I'll come back. I promise."

She backs away despite wanting to stay, to run back over and pull the rest out, to free him. She'll make a better plan. She'll make sure she has enough time. No matter what he says, she has to find a way to help him.

She quickly turns and leaves the room, pulling the door closed behind her. The bag of blood won't tip her dad off. He might just assume it slipped out when it got too full, like that water balloon she tried to fill up once. That's what she's hoping anyway.

She sneaks back up the stairs as quickly but quietly as she can. When she reaches the top to find the room still empty and the door to the backroom still closed, she breathes out in relief. She hurries over to the chairs in the right corner, retaking her original one. 

Just in time, too. The door starts to open and she busies herself with looking through her bag under the pretence of trying to find something. She pulls out one of the books she usually brings along to keep herself occupied.

When she looks back up, her dad's leading Maylor Lockwood out of the back room with secretive looks and hushed voices. She doesn't quite catch what they say, but she can't bring herself to care. Her mind is too focused on what's going on in the room underneath her feet.

Her dad manages to catch her eyes, and he smiles at her. She forces herself to return the gesture. The man's words echo in her head._ I'm sure your dad's a good man_.

She hopes he's right. Maybe it's all just a big misunderstanding. A really, really big one.


	3. Chapter 3

School is a nightmare. Not usually, but when every one of her thoughts are filled with snippets of conversation she had with the man in the basement, and the plan that she's trying to form by remembering all of the tubes and wires and machines?

It's a lot harder to concentrate on schoolwork, or the latest "gossip" that Caroline's heard somehow, or whatever new tale Bonnie's grams has spun her about her supposed witch ancestors. She tries her best though.

Even when Matt leans over to talk to her about something or other. She just stares straight ahead at the wall across from her, the book she picked out from the little wooden case in the corner completely forgotten about in her lap. It's something about a missing girl and a dog. 

"Elena?" Matt's voice finally cuts through her thoughts, snapping her back to reality.

She turns her head to look at him, sitting next to her. They're tucked away in their little corner of the room that they — they being the two of them, Caroline, and Bonnie — usually claim whenever they get free time to read — or in Caroline's case, doodle in her notebook. They usually spend the time creating their own stories, but not today.

"Yeah, sorry," she says, shaking her head. "What were you saying?"

Matt frowns, and she hopes he won't ask her what's wrong. She doesn't know how to answer him without lying, and she gets the feeling that telling him there's a man being held in the basement of her dad's clinic isn't such a good idea. He's great with secrets, she knows that, but this just isn't one she thinks she can tell anyone.

His frown quickly disappears as he seems to brush it off without question.

"I was asking if you wanted to come over to my house after school," he repeats with that goofy smile. "My mom's gonna take me and Vicki out for ice cream."

Elena hesitates. On any other day, she'd probably say yes. She likes spending time with Matt, even if his mom isn't the best guardian. And it means that she doesn't have to spend hours at the clinic waiting for her mom or dad to be ready to go home, which she's usually jumping at the chance for.

Except, this time, she's not so sure. She needs another chance to go down to the basement, to try again. 

"Did I hear ice cream?" Caroline asks, perking up. "I'm in, whatever it is. Gives me a reason to stay as far away from my mom and dad as possible."

"Are they still fighting?" Bonnie asks sympathetically.

"Yeah, but it'll be over soon," Caroline says matter-of-factly, shrugging it off. "It never lasts long. Dad's just gonna take a few days down at the cabin to cool off and when he gets back, everything will be fine."

That's what happens every time, Elena thinks. In a few months, Caroline will tell them that they've had another argument, and then the whole cycle will repeat again. She feels bad for her. Caroline's so used to it by now that she's stopped making it such a big deal and started brushing it off, simply waiting for it to be over. 

"Maybe if I'm lucky, he'll take me with him this time," she adds with a wiggle of her eyebrows and a smile. "I might be able to convince him to let me bring you. Our last sleepover there was amazing, remember?"

"I was nearly attacked by a wolf," Bonnie reminds her. "I wouldn't call that so amazing."

"You thought you saw a wolf and screamed, but when Caroline's dad went to see what it was, it was just a bush," Elena says.

Matt chuckles under his breath, lowering his head. Bonnie glares at her, but it doesn't last long as Caroline laughs at the memory. She just rolls her eyes and drops them back to her own book that she's been flipping through but not really reading.

"I don't think I can do it today," Elena says, turning back to Matt. 

His frown returns, and she feels Caroline's and Bonnie's confused and curious stares on her.

"Really?" he asks, his voice taking on that sad tone. "How come?"

"Yeah, it's the weekend." Caroline pouts. "We always do stuff."

"I'm just...busy," she lies, her stomach twisting. She never lies to them. Not really big ones, anyway.

Caroline's eyes narrow at her, and Bonnie doesn't seem any more convinced. Only Matt seems to be buying into it, his frown growing deeper but accepting her excuse with a sad little nod.

"But your mom was making plans with my mine earlier," Caroline says with a shake of her head. "She said that you had nothing going on all weekend."

Elena falters, her heart jumping a beat. She hadn't thought about that. Of course her mom has already made plans with Caroline's, they've been best friends for years. That's why they rarely spend weekends doing nothing; there's always some plans made with either Caroline's parent, Bonnie's, or both of them.

All eyes are on her now, waiting for her response. She could lie again. Tell them that, _yeah_, they have no plans for the _weekend_, but today they do. They probably wouldn't believe it, but they'd accept it. At least, Bonnie and Matt would. Caroline is a different story.

But she's never exactly been a convincing liar. Everyone can always see through her no matter how hard she tries. Even Jeremy, and he's only five. 

She needs to be able to get back down to the basement though. But she can't make anyone suspicious and risk getting him in more trouble. Who knows what her dad will do if he knew she had seen and talked to him? Her heart sinks.

"I must have got it wrong," she says, trying to ignore the guilt already clawing at her from inside. "I guess I can come over today. But...you're sure your mom is okay with taking us out?"

It's a last-ditch attempt at getting out of it. If his mom bails on them like she's done before, then she'll have a reason to go back to the clinic and have another chance at freeing the man before something bad can happen. 

Matt's face lights up though and he quickly shakes his head, smiling from ear-to-ear.

"Yeah, she promised that she would," he tells them. "And she's been herself all week."

_Been herself_ is their code for whether his mom is drunk or not. Whenever he mentions that his mom_ hasn't been herself_ all day, she invites him over, knowing her parents understand when she tells them the same thing. 

"Well, I'm definitely in then," Caroline says again, apparently failing to notice that Matt wasn't inviting her in the first place. 

"Can I come, too?" Bonnie asks him. "Grams has an extra class to teach, and as much as I love spending time with my dad, I think I'd rather be with all of you."

Matt visibly hesitates, his mouth opening slightly. Elena looks down at the book in her lap, avoiding their eyes as the awkwardness sweeps over her. It's clear to her that it wasn't an open invitation, and it's even clearer that Matt would prefer it would stay that way. He's never exactly been friends with Caroline or Bonnie, only spending time with them for her.

And yet, he still smiles politely at them, and says, "yeah, of course."

Bonnie smiles back in thanks while Caroline barely acknowledges it. And Elena resigns herself to the fact that she isn't getting out of this now. She supposes the man can wait just one more day. 

It still pains her, though. Thoughts of him plague her through the rest of the school day, and then afterwards, when her mom and Matt's takes all of them out. She manages to push the thoughts away for a few brief moments, when they're laughing together and eating their ice cream at the little table outside of the store, underneath the canopy.

She smiles, looking away from them. Her eyes drift over the town. The sky is light blue, bright and stretching over them and free of clouds. They're right next to the Mystic Grill, across from the statue sitting in the middle of the square. She takes in every building, loving the familiarity of the small little town. 

Until her eyes lock onto her own family's name, written across the window of the building across the street. Her smile slips, and thoughts of the man flood back into her mind, leaving no room for anything else. She looks down at the ground in front of it as if she'll be able to see right through the stone, down into the basement.

He's still there. At least, she thinks he is. She can't tell if she hopes he is or isn't. Maybe he's managed to free himself somehow and doesn't need her help. She would definitely rather that.

She stares at her family's clinic for a moment longer, wondering if she could sneak away and help him now. The door leading to the basement is barely ever locked. She could sneak inside and get him out the same way. It would only take a few minutes. 

As if the universe is trying to help her, the doors open, and out walks her dad. Her eyes widen, her heart skipping a beat. 

Before she can muster up the courage to say anything, her mom does it for her. 

"Oh — Kelly, can you watch the kids for just a second? Grayson's just over there, and I need to talk to him about the kids spending the weekend at Bill's cabin with him."

Matt's mom smiles and waves it off, agreeing with ease. Her mom stands from her seat, and Elena sees her opportunity quickly slipping through her fingers. Still, she doesn't move. She smiles at her mom and watches her cross the square, hurrying to catch her dad just outside the clinic. 

Caroline's in the middle of a conversation with Bonnie, both of them distracted. Elena gnaws at her bottom lip, fidgeting in her seat discreetly. She needs to be fast. 

"Do you kids want some more ice cream?" Matt's mom asks abruptly just as she finishes her own. 

Caroline immediately agrees, and Elena is quick to join her. She smiles and stands, Matt going with her to remind her of all their choices. The second that they're back inside the store, and Caroline pulls Bonnie back into a one-sided conversation, Elena takes the opportunity.

She slips away from the table without either of them noticing. As she hurries across the square, she manages to avoid being seen by her mom or dad, still talking outside of the clinic. She darts down the sidestreet and over to the door leading right into the basement.

Hesitation makes her pause for just a moment. Her eyes dart back over into the street, across to the ice cream store. Is this really the best idea? What if she gets caught? Her mom could go back over at any second, or Matt and his mom could come back out and realize she's gone. How would she explain why she left?

An image of the man flashes in her mind. In pain as volts of electricity are pushed through his body, writhing and unable to escape as he's drained of his blood. She can't leave him to suffer like that. 

The door is a bit stiff and heavier than she was expecting, but after a few good tugs and her nearly falling down, she manages to pull it open. She slips inside and goes to let it swing shut behind her. She quickly stops it at the last few inches, scouring the ground for something she can wedge in between it. 

Coming up empty and knowing she's on a clock, she kicks her slip-on shoe off and places it between the door and its frame. She steps back, holding her hands up as she waits a moment. It doesn't move.

Sighing in relief, she turns, and runs through the basement, taking the corner. She pushes at the door and walks in without even a beat of hesitation this time. Her stomach still gives an involuntary twist all the same, but she ignores it as she follows her steps from yesterday and the day before but with far more confidence in her plan.

She goes through the motions, drawing the curtain back without a second thought. It almost startles her to find the man conscious. Her heart jumps a beat and she listens, waiting for that low thrum of electricity coursing through the floor. 

The man shifts, his eyes snapping to her. They're momentarily wide and filled with fear, enough for her to recognize. When he notices it's her, his features relax, something akin to relief washing over his face. But the image is already ingrained in her mind, flooding it with questions of why.

None of them she voices.

"I only have a few minutes," she explains in a hurry, the urgency to leave already tugging deep in her chest. 

She drops her gaze to his arms, his neck, following the tubes and wires that she's already memorized the patterns of. Three of them are hooked up to the machine that was electrocuting him, one of the tubes is attached to an empty bag, another hooked to an IV stand next to the machine.

It's filled with a clear liquid, but if she looks at it hard enough, there almost seems to be hints of lilac and something light-brown in colour swirling around in it. 

"You should go then," he says, and she notices how much stronger his voice is today. It's still broken and not quite as strong as it probably should be, but he sounds better. 

She shakes her head, already reaching out for his arm. He shifts again as if trying to move away from her, pulling against the thick leather strap tying him down at both of his wrists. Her hands falter, concern filling her.

"I've already told you," he says gently, "you can't."

"You never gave me a reason why," she points out, determined to do it, no matter what he says.

He stares at her for a moment, his eyes narrowing the tiniest bit. 

"You're a stubborn little one, aren't you?" he asks, almost sounding impressed and intrigued.

She smiles proudly and nods. "Yep. So, let me help you."

"I won't allow you to get into trouble," he tells her, unwavering. "I'm fine. You should stop coming down here."

Elena stares him down. Even just the idea of leaving him seems impossible. She tried today, hoping that maybe he would be okay, but she couldn't escape him. 

He sighs quietly but doesn't try and protest further. She takes that as his acceptance that she's going to help him no matter what he tries to say to convince her. And so, she continues what she had been doing.

She starts with the tube attached to the empty bag. It's easier to pull out when there isn't a stream of blood running through it. He hisses through his teeth and she grimaces, glancing at his face to make sure he's okay.

She pulls it out the rest of the way, letting it fall to the ground without a thought. The skin it had been embedded in seems like it's going to start bleeding again, but to her relief, it doesn't. 

"What's your name?" the man suddenly asks, a curious lilt to his voice as he stares straight up at the ceiling. 

She pauses, her head tilting. A smile forms on her lips.

"Elena," she tells him, and moves around to his other side, careful to duck underneath the IV. 

"Elena," he echoes, the one word emphasized by his accent. "That's a nice name."

"What's yours?" she asks as she stares at the IV tube, following it to the bag. She's not entirely sure what taking it out will do. Maybe he needs it. She doesn't want to make him worse. 

The man turns his head to look at her briefly as if sensing her hesitation. His eyes follow the tube as her own does before she turns back to him. He shakes his head gently.

"It's not important," he tells her in a way that makes her think he's expecting it to make her leave it alone. "I'm Lorenzo."

Elena's smile widens. "Lorenzo's a really nice name."

She then carefully peels the little piece of medical tape keeping the tube in place off. If it hurts him, he doesn't let it show. She sticks it to the underside of the table before focusing on the tube itself, gently pulling it from his skin.

"It's Italian," he informs her as if they're making simple, pleasant conversation without a care in the world. "Some people used to call me Enzo. It was easier. Which do you prefer?"

She thinks about it as the IV slips out of his arm. She startles slightly as some of the liquid leaks from the end of it, but she quickly recovers, letting it go. A small pool of the liquid starts to collect on the floor. 

"I like both," she decides. "Enzo's different. Lorenzo sounds pretty."

The man — Enzo — smiles as she gently rubs at the area of his skin the IV had been lodged in. It looks painful, and she almost feels worse about taking it out. 

"I don't think I've ever been called pretty before, much less by a seven-year-old," he says, amusement lacing his voice. "Why exactly are you so determined to get me out of here? You have no idea who I am. What I am."

"Then tell me what you are."

"Will it make you give up and stop coming here?" he asks, raising his eyebrows a little.

"No," she says simply. 

He casts his eyes back up towards the ceiling in exasperation, and for a moment, Elena worries that it means he won't tell her. 

But he sighs. He's no longer smiling, she notices, not a hint of amusement left behind. There's a thoughtful look on his face, debating over whether or not to actually be honest with her. 

She slowly continues with unstrapping him, catching on. The more she tries to help him, the more he tries to distract her by talking. Her fingers begin to carefully work at one of the wires hooking him up the machine.

It's a little more stuck in his skin than the tubes were, and she's more cautious, worried about it suddenly starting up. Her theory pans out though as his arm shifts, trying to discreetly move away, and he sighs again.

"Have you ever heard of vampires before?" he asks her, still staring straight up.

She pauses. The word strikes familiar with her, and she's sure she's heard it uttered before. Probably from one of the bedtime stories her mom and dad have told her before. She's sure she remembers hearing them say it. 

"Yeah," she says, pulling at everything she can remember, her brow furrowing. "I think my friend Tyler dressed up as one for Halloween last year. They're supposed to be dead people who drink blood, right?"

Enzo huffs out a quiet laugh. "That's the gist."

She manages to free his arm of one of the wires. There's a metal piece attached to the end, sharp like a tiny needle, and she winces, imagining how painful it must have been. He barely seemed fazed by it. If he was, he's really good at hiding it. 

His smile has already faded, she notices when he rolls his head to the side, finally facing her again. There's something deep in his eyes, and the longer she holds his stare, she thinks she's just about able to figure it out. The skin under his eyes shifts and moves. 

His veins seem to push up against the surface, black and slithering slowly toward his eyes. It has to be her imagination. She frowns, her head tilting to the side.

He must notice because he blinks rapidly and quickly looks away. His eyes return to normal, but it's too late. She's already seen it, and her mind is already moving to grab the nearest theory. One that she's sure is true.

"Is that what you are?" she asks carefully, her voice quiet. "A vampire?"

He looks at her out of the corner of his eye. 

"You seem relatively calm about that," he notes in surprise. "Aren't seven-year-olds supposed to be afraid of big bad vampires and monsters under their beds and whatnot? That was supposed to make you leave and never look back."

She takes in a breath at his not-quite confirmation. Vampire. Sure. Okay. She can handle a vampire. 

"You're not really scary," she points out. "Do all vampires look like you?"

He makes a noise of amused surprise, and she smiles right along with him, pleased that he doesn't seem to be in pain anymore. Or at least is distracted from it. He's not the only one who can do that.

"You mean do they look like normal human beings? Mostly," he says. "Except for when we're...hungry."

"Do you have fangs?" she asks, her eyes widening a little at the thought. She's only ever seen the fake kind that comes with the costume Tyler wore, as well as the ones with werewolf costumes. 

"I do," he confirms, nodding. "But, again, only when I'm hungry. I can control it any other time."

She pauses, thinking. It all makes sense. Well, maybe not all of it. But it's slowly adding up with each new piece of information.

"Is that why you're here?" she asks, looking him in the eyes. "Because you're a vampire? Is my dad trying to cure you?"

Enzo's smile slips a little, and she wants to take it back. Clearly, her guess was off. The more times she gets it wrong, the more she dreads the actual answer. If her dad isn't helping him, then what is he doing to him?

"Not exactly," he says. "Your father is...trying to figure out how I work. We vampires are a real mystery."

Elena isn't so sure she likes the sound of figuring out how he works. It sounds painful, and by the looks of it, definitely is. 

"Are you okay with that?" she asks quietly, because she's getting the feeling that he isn't. She has to hear him say it though, so that she can know for sure that she's right. "With being here? Do you want him to...figure out how you work?"

Enzo hesitates. That's all the answer she needs. He presses his lips together. His eyes soften, and the look he sends her is gentle and close to pleading as if begging her not to ask him anything else. It'll mean making him have to find some way to be honest but lie to her at the same time. She doesn't think he likes doing that. 

"You're nearly free," she says, the determination slipping back into her voice. "I'm going to get you out of here."

"Elena," he starts softly, shaking his head again, "please, I can't—"

She's already in the process of fiddling with a second wire while he protests, but they're both swiftly stopped by the loud creak of footsteps on the old staircase leading down to the basement. 

Elena's heart jumps. Her dad must have come back in to check on Enzo.

"You have to go," Enzo quickly says to her, his voice suddenly urgent, his eyes wide.

"I can't leave you," she tries to insist, but her eyes dart to the door in fear. What will happen if her dad catches her?

"Elena, please," Enzo says. "I won't let you get hurt because of me. Go. Hide, and when he comes into the room, run."

She doesn't want to. She doesn't want to leave him, and she doesn't want to run and hide. But Enzo's expression has morphed into one of fear and panic, and he's silently begging her to do as he says. 

Despite everything inside of her telling her not to, she moves away from him, backing up. Her eyes flit to the wires on the floor though, the IV she pulled out. She pauses.

Enzo quickly follows her line of sight when he notices she's stopped. He freezes, then curses under his breath. Then he looks back over at her and motions again for her to hide. She listens, though reluctant. 

She tucks herself away behind one of the cabinets in the corner of the room, just out of sight of the door. If her dad walks in and happens to turn around, he'll spot her in a heartbeat. 

Her mind is more focused on what her dad's going to assume when he sees the pulled out tubes and wires. But she watches as Enzo pulls up against the leather straps binding him to the metal table. Nothing happens, and Elena can see the panic all over his face.

He tries again, gritting his teeth. Elena worries he's going to pass out, having already been weak when she came in, even if not as much as the last two days. The leather starts to split. Her eyes widen, and he pulls up against it again. It rips right down the middle, freeing his arm. 

She tries to figure out what he's doing when the door finally opens. Elena goes completely still, her heart stopping briefly.

"What the hell?!" her dad shouts upon seeing Enzo half free. 

He rushes over to him and quickly holds both of his arms down despite the other still being strapped. Enzo doesn't even seem to struggle against his grip. Elena worries, and she hesitates to leave. But then her dad moves a little to his left, and Enzo catches her eye. 

He nods his head to the side in a subtle action. Motions for her to leave. It was part of the plan. 

She quickly listens to him and stands, slipping out of her hiding spot while her dad's back is still turned to her. A part of her desperately tries to pull her back as she hears the sounds of her dad cursing him, and Enzo pretending to attempt to free himself. Maybe he'll actually do it, she thinks to herself as she runs as fast as she can away from the basement.

But she doesn't look back to check, collecting her shoe and letting the back door slam closed behind her. With it comes a clawing at her heart, guilt ripping through her. She just avoids being seen by her mom and manages to slip back to the table without anyone even seeming to notice she was gone in the first place. 

It takes fifteen minutes for her dad to walk back out of the clinic, smiling as he says something to her mom. Elena's heart sinks. She has a feeling that means she was wrong.


	4. Chapter 4

Time and days have become hard to keep track of while strapped to a table with no way of telling. There's a lack of clocks on the wall, much to Enzo's dismay. The only real way to tell anything is through whether or not there's sunlight streaming in through the windows, a glimpse of a grey sky, or the dark black of night. 

It's the latter that he's met with when he finally manages to force his eyes open. Everything's blurred and out of focus. His head feels heavy despite it still resting against the cool metal of the table underneath him. The vervain's finally wearing off after who knows long, but it leaves behind that unpleasant wooziness.

It took three doses of it before Dr Gilbert was finally able to properly sedate him. He struggled for as long as he could to make sure he was convinced of his attempted escape, only part of it real. The opportunity was there, and he thought that maybe if he just managed to break the other strap, he could free himself for real. 

But the second he caught the sound of a door slamming shut, letting him know Elena was safe, he knew that it didn't matter too much if he was successful or not. He's been enduring it for fifty-seven years already. Any chance of actually escaping left him along with Damon forty-five years ago.

As long as Elena doesn't get caught, he doesn't care how much vervain Gilbert forces into him. Except, he doesn't know if she's alright. 

He rolls his head to the left, his eyes already adjusting to the bright lights of the room. He can never figure out why exactly Dr Gilbert never turns them off. It's not as if he's concerned about if he has a fear of the dark or not, which he's sure he should considering his cell back at Whitmore and the dim gas-lit lamp that leaves him shrouded in darkness most of the time.

The curtain isn't drawn, surprisingly. He's got a full view of the door. It's closed and, by the looks of it, locked. There's no chance of Elena sneaking in for another attempt to free him. A pang of relief settles in his chest, startling him. He's not supposed to care. But he's glad that she can't risk her own safety.

He'll admit that he doesn't know what would happen if she did get caught. Her father seems to care deeply about her, and on the few occasions that he's managed to make him hold a conversation with him long enough to actually find anything out, he talks about her with great fondness and adoration. 

But if he thought that she was trying to help a vampire...he can't risk finding out how he feels about sympathizers, even if they are his own daughter. 

The floorboards outside the room give their tell-tale creaks of warning. He tenses up without even really being conscious of it; it's just instinct now. He turns his head back, looking up at the ceiling. A moment later and the lock turns, clicking as it slides out of place and allows the door to be quietly pushed open. 

He listens to the sound of Dr Gilbert's footsteps approaching him, ignoring the unsteady beat of his own heart.

"You're awake," he says casually, as if they're just making everyday conversation, stopping by his bedside. Not that it's much of a bed.

"Am I not supposed to be?" Enzo asks wryly. "Would you rather I was still unconscious for your next little experiment?"

"Makes no difference, really," Dr Gilbert replies, uncaring as he checks the tube he seems to have reattached to his arm at some point while he was still sedated. "Just so long as you're not trying to escape again."

Enzo scoffs, but says, "oh, I wouldn't dream of it. Wouldn't want to hinder the discoveries of medical magic, now would I?"

Dr Gilbert sighs. He finishes twisting the little piece keeping the empty hospital bag attached to the tube before moving around the bed, stopping to check the vervain drip. 

"Don't worry, you'll be out of here in another day or so," he tells him.

Enzo looks over at him, his brow crumpling.

"I think I've almost got everything I need from you," he adds, either noticing Enzo's confusion or simply deciding to fill him in as he double-checks the IV; it's only a quarter full, and he can't help but question how much of it is in his system. "By the end of the today, your cooperation should have helped cure a sick little girl."

Enzo's heart jumps a beat, tumbling over itself. 

"A little girl?" he asks, his mind already going down one path. "That's why I'm here? You're using me to cure someone?"

"Hoping to, anyway," Dr Gilbert says with another sigh. He leaves the IV alone long enough to look at him. "She's got an incurable sickness. That's why I called Augustine. Your blood and way of healing is the only thing that might be able to heal _her_."

"Then what's with all of the torturing?" he asks through clenched teeth. "Why not just take my blood and leave it at that?"

"Because we need to be sure of what's going to happen when we try and use what we've discovered about you on her."

Enzo rolls his eyes, but his heart's beating too quickly, his mind racing.

"What kind of illness?" he asks. "Does it have a name or is it just a mysterious sickness that happens to be so rare that no one's even bothered to give it one?"

"Doesn't matter what it is," Dr Gilbert says, carefully ducking under the IV to get to the machine hooked up next to it. "All that matters is that you're going to be the reason that she gets better and will live a long, healthy life."

"You seem awfully determined to help this girl," he comments, his eyes following him. "This wouldn't happen to be that daughter of yours that you talk so fondly about, would it?"

Dr Gilbert pauses, turning back to eye him curiously. Intrigued. It's clear he didn't expect Enzo to even remember him talking about her, never mind ask about her. As long as he's careful, he won't make him suspicious. 

With a small smile, Dr Gilbert shakes his head and turns back to the machine.

"No, it's not my daughter," he says.

A pang of relief settles in his chest. For a moment there, he was worried that Elena had been attempting to free the one thing that's supposedly going to cure her. If that were the case, he's not entirely sure what he would do. His desire to be free is strong, but he's not sure it outweighs the feeling he gets when he thinks about Elena being that sick little girl who needs his help.

"So, I'm basically just being used a human lab rat," he says, quickly looking for a change in subject. "How lovely."

"Well, you're not really a human, now are you?" Dr Gilbert points out with a twisted smile and raise of his eyebrows.

Admittedly, it still stings a little to hear. He's not even worthy of being treated like a human being just because he's technically dead. He bets a lab rat is probably treated a lot better than he is by Augustine. At least they get to be put out of their misery at the end of an experiment. 

He, on the other hand, has that fortunate little ability to heal himself over and over again. Leaving them free to go from one experiment to the next with ease. A part of him can't help but resent his abilities at this point. If he didn't have them, they wouldn't want him. 

"Ouch," he says dryly, "there go my feelings. You know, you really should develop a better bedside manner, Doctor. I can't imagine you have very many happy clients if you treat all of them like this."

"But you're not a client, just a means to a very good end," Dr Gilbert replies as he adjusts something on the machine, pressing one of the buttons. It gives an ominous beep as if in protest, but nothing happens. "Now, if I were you, I'd try and save that energy you have. You're going to need it."

"What are you—" Enzo starts, only to be cut off as he realizes the machine just had a slight delay to it. 

He bites down, hard, on his tongue as pain shoots straight through his body. It mixes with the buzz of electricity, volt after volt coursing through him. It sends every part of him into shock. He can't move a muscle, paralyzed, as his entire body convulses. 

He's faintly aware somewhere in the back of his mind of Dr Gilbert saying something to him. The words don't make it to him though, everything blocked out by the deafening buzz in his head and all around him. 

His arms pull up against the straps out of a need to escape the sensation alone, his mind not working properly. Nothing happens though, and another volt of electricity hits him right down his spine, forcing him back to the table. 

There are footsteps, he thinks. Quiet and fading, walking away from him. He wants to call out despite knowing it's pointless. No one's going to help him now. He keeps his lips pressed tightly together, every groan and agonized scream muffled as best he can. 

It doesn't take long, though. It becomes too much, like it always does. The thick, smoky scent of burning flesh overwhelms his senses, and his mind crumbles in on itself. The last thing he feels is relief before everything fades away into black. Unconscious at least equals no pain. 

* * *

When Caroline had made the suggestion of asking her dad if she could bring them all along to the cabin at the weekend, Elena hadn't taken her seriously. Her mind was all over the place, and all she could think about was Enzo. She realized the next day that she been completely serious. 

Two days. Two entire days that she spends at the cabin. She couldn't just protest and say that she couldn't go. Her mom and dad both know that she loves spending time with Bonnie and Caroline, especially at Caroline's dad's cabin. It would be suspicious if she tried to get out of it. 

She has a feeling that the fact that she spends most of the time in silence worrying about what's happening to Enzo at that very moment isn't all that much better. But she plasters on a fake smile and tries to enjoy herself. It works. Briefly. 

But she's home now. And by home, she means her actual home. Not the clinic. It's driving her crazy. 

Since the moment they arrived back in Mystic Falls, she's been hoping that her parents will take a trip into town to go to the clinic. But neither of them have even mentioned needing to go. It's Monday, she's sure that they'll have to at some point.

And she'll have another shot at freeing Enzo. The last one didn't quite go as planned. 

At least she knows more about him now, she thinks as she sits on the corner of the couch, watching her mom walk into the room, grab something with a smile while still talking, then return to her dad in the kitchen. She knows his name. And that he's a vampire.

The word repeats in her head, over and over again. A vampire. To her seven-year-old brain, it's just a word. It has little to no real meaning to her and is associated with itchy costumes and Tyler jumping out behind her, Bonnie, and Caroline and pretending to sink his plastic fangs into her neck. 

But she's heard what they're supposed to be like. Dead. Drinking blood to survive, usually from people's necks. They're supposed to have extremely pale skin and wear long, billowing capes made of silk and velvet over waistcoats in shades of black, purple, or dark red. They're supposed to talk in rich, Shakespearean accents. At least, according to the shows that she's caught on TV.

But Enzo isn't like that. Not from what she's seen. Well, except for the accent. But everything else isn't right. He's pale, but only from the loss of blood, and maybe she hasn't seen what he would usually wear if he had a choice in the matter, which she's got a feeling that he doesn't, but she can't see him wearing a cape. 

The part she's having the hardest time grasping is the idea of him being dead. She supposes it could make sense. He's sort of...undead, really. Vampires being exactly like humans — with the exception of needing to drink blood, though she thinks it's just a bit like them having to drink water, really — would make sense. Sort of.

Her eyes follow her dad as he walks in with Jeremy seated on his shoulders, ignoring his giggles at being so high up. He swipes his keys up from the little bowl on the table without breaking conversation with her mom. Elena perks up and turns in her seat as he moves back into the kitchen.

"Is it Richard again?" her mom asks with a teasing tone, close to rolling her eyes.

Her dad makes a noise of amusement but shakes his head.

"No, surprisingly," he replies. "It's Carol. I'm not sure what she wants, but she needs me to meet her at the clinic for it."

"Okay, well, I don't need to go into work today, so, take as long as you need."

It could just be her imagination, but Elena almost thinks there's a hidden meaning beneath her words. Something that involves Enzo. It makes her heart jump a beat and she grips the top of the couch a little tighter, waiting for the right moment.

"Can I come?" she asks, leaning right up on her knees now, widening her eyes at her dad. "Please?"

Her mom and dad share a look, and her mom shrugs. Her dad smiles and nods.

"Sure, sweetie," he says as he carefully lowers Jeremy from his shoulders. 

She smiles but doesn't let the triumph show, keeping it hidden beneath her expression. She's quick to slip on her shoes — ignoring how the left one is still a little bent out of shape from being used as a doorstop — and jacket before she takes her dad's hand and follows him out of the house and into town.

The entire walk there is near excruciating. Her dad asks about the trip. Was it fun? Did they see any interesting animals? 

She answers all of his questions with that same bright smile, but her mind couldn't be further from the trip. The closer they get to the clinic, the tighter her stomach feels. The anticipation alone is eating her from the inside out, wondering if she'll actually have enough time to do it this time. 

"Alright, I just have to get something from the back for Mrs Lockwood," he tells her while he unlocks the front door and they walk in. "She'll be here soon, so, would you rather come sit with me or wait out here and tell me once she gets here?"

Elena knows her answer right away without even thinking about it. 

"I'll wait here," she says with confidence. 

He nods back at her, flashing her another smile. He then disappears into the back room. She has no idea how long she has until he comes back out, but she's not going to waste a second. 

For the first time, the stairs don't creak as she makes her way down them. She takes it as a good sign. This is the one.

Even the clinic itself is trying to help her out by making her movements as discreet as possible, not forcing her to have to slow down to stay quiet and undetected.

As she approaches the door, the thought that her dad might have locked it after what happened two days ago does occur to her, and she worries about what she'll do then. She doesn't really know how to pick locks like Tyler claims he can, and she wouldn't even know where to start if she were to attempt it. 

Thankfully though, when she twists the handle and pushes, the door swings open as easily as the last three times. Maybe her dad trusts that she won't come looking, and that Enzo isn't going to be able to free himself enough to even get near the door.

The thought makes her heart sink. He really is a prisoner. She hadn't thought about it like that before, not really. 

She walks into the room then pauses. The curtain is pulled back, to her surprise. Her heart skips a beat before she registers that Enzo is still in the room and hasn't been moved out. She isn't entirely sure if she had been hoping he would still be there or not. 

But her mind gets quickly made up on that when she finally picks up on the familiar thrum of electricity emitting from all around her; under her feet, spreading into her chest and knocking the rhythm of her heart off course. She's positive she preferred when it was just a blood bag that had him falling in and out of consciousness. 

Spurring herself into action, she moves forward without a second thought. When she gets closer, she notices that Enzo currently seems to be in the unconscious part of it. It doesn't matter. She said she was going to do this.

She moves around the bed, ducking underneath the IV. She stands in front of the machine he's hooked up to, turning her back on him, partially to avoid seeing him convulse. On her last visit, and the one before, she managed to get a good look at the wires and the buttons. 

Seeing them now though is...daunting. There aren't that many, but they're all over the machine, and they have numbers and words surrounding them, and a little black screen above them that seems to be monitoring his heartbeat. It's unsteady and going too fast.

Taking in a deep breath, she calms herself down and focuses. There has to be an off switch. It should be simple enough to find. She just has to find the switch labelled off. Easy.

A noise comes from behind her and she whips around. Enzo's body jerks as he seems to be regaining consciousness, quiet groans and noises resembling whimpers catching in the back of his throat.

"Damon." She frowns at the name that slips past his lips, pushed through the pain. "Don't leave me here."

Her heart twists, but she turns back to the machine, searching it desperately for the off switch now. Her eyes flick over all of the buttons and wires, but none of them say on, or off, or even just a power switch of some kind. 

He makes another noise — a pained groan that quickly turns into a gasp for air — and she tries to find another way. She moves around to the back of the machine, searching for a cable of some sort. It's protruding from the back and she follows it as it slithers across the pristine, tiled floor, all the way over to an extension in the corner of the room. 

She hurries over to it and pulls the plug. The loud thrum comes to a stop. It almost feels strange. Silent. It wasn't so odd two days ago when it wasn't on at all, but now it's like her body is still buzzing.

She quickly moves back over to Enzo and eyes him. His breathing is ragged, swallowing gulps of air. She glances back at the machine, but the heartbeat monitor isn't working now.

Enzo's eyes flutter open slowly when she looks back at him. Reminding herself she needs to work fast to avoid another situation like the one she ended up in two days ago, and the day before, and the day before that, she starts on the wires still hooking him up to the now unworking machine.

Her fingers move deftly, carefully but quickly pulling them from his arm. He stirs underneath her hands, his head rolling slowly from side to side as if he's trying to argue without even being fully conscious. 

"What are you doing?" he asks, his voice just as raspy and cracking as the first time she heard it. It strikes a happy little chord of familiarity in her though, having not heard him once in the two days she was away. 

"What I promised I would," she says as she takes out the last wire from his arm. "Helping you."

She moves her attention to the last one. It's embedded in his neck, a little piece of medical tape holding it in place. It's thicker than the others and looks far more painful than the rest of them did, even without the electricity coursing through it.

She carefully pulls the tape back, wincing as his skin tries to follow it. He doesn't seem to notice. She just sticks it to the edge of the table before starting on the wire, careful to pull it straight, wiggling it as little as possible.

Enzo shakes his head, but it's more of another slow roll from one side to the other. He's still blinking slowly in and out of consciousness, but he's not making much more noise. She would be relieved but it's also worrying her.

A slow trickle of blood follows the wire once it leaves his neck, and she quickly drops it. She glances around, her heart beating too fast. With the amount of blood he has to have already lost, she doesn't want to risk making it worse.

Retrieving what she's almost certain is a gauze — her dad told her the name once when Bonnie got hurt at their house and she put one over the scrape for her, much to his amusement — she tilts his head with a gentle nudge of her hand. He doesn't protest again. 

She's careful to place the gauze right over the pinhead-sized hole in his neck, stopping the flow of blood. He turns his head slightly again and looks up at her, his eyelids threatening to obscure his vision. Recognition flickers in his eyes and they widen a little.

"Elena," he breathes out. "You're okay."

She pauses, her fingers halting in gently pressing the gauze down for good measure.

"Yeah, I'm okay," she says, her eyebrows furrowing. "Are you?"

"I thought your father caught you," Enzo says, partially ignoring her question. She can't help but think it was purposeful, but even so, she gets her answer from just his voice. "When you didn't come back, I assumed that he — I didn't know what to think, and I was..."

"I'm sorry," she quickly says. "I had to go to my friend's dad's cabin. But I was worried you got in trouble when I left. What did my dad do?"

As she asks it, she finishes pressing at the gauze and does a quick scan of him.

The only things keeping him in place — which is strapped down to a metal table that she's now noticing seems to be stained with blood — are the thick leather straps. Two are tied just a few inches above his wrists, around the edge of the table, while another is tied around his chest. 

That one wasn't there before. At least that partially answers her question.

"He just...sedated me," he tells her as she tilts her head, trying to follow the straps. 

She has a feeling that he's lying. Once again, she notices that his skin at where the straps are touching him and where the IV was stuck in his arm is swollen and blistered as if he's been burned. It almost looks like it's getting worse the longer she looks.

"Sedated you?" she echoes in question as she crouches, twisting her head to look at where both ends of the strap around his chest meet.

She spots the buckle that's keeping it in place. There's a row of holes right down the middle, and yet, it seems as if an extra one has been made specifically for Enzo, a good few inches apart from the rest. To make it tighter, she supposes.

"Er, put me to sleep," Enzo corrects as if she were inquiring about the definition of the words. "Knocked me out, I guess. It's just this...drug. Well, more of a herb, really."

"What's it called?" she asks, if only to keep him conscious as she reaches under the table. 

"Vervain," he says. "It's the only thing that can really work against people like me. Normal things don't tend to work on us."

Elena hums quietly, digesting that for later. Vampires need special things to make them sleep. That makes sense. It does seem to be mentioned a lot that they sleep during the day rather than at night. Maybe they have sleeping problems and vervain helps with that. 

"Does it hurt?" she asks while ducking under the table, reaching for the buckle.

It's fiddly and when she tries to pull the material away from the little metal hook keeping it in place, it barely budges. She tugs at it harder, pushing against the hook this time. It slips out, the strap coming loose.

She pushes it up, standing along with it, and begins to pull it off of him. Enzo draws in a deep breath as she does.

"Not so much now," he says on an exhale, the relief clear in his voice no matter how hard he tries to hide it. 

She smiles a small smile and lets the first strap drop to the ground on his other side. He takes in another deep breath, and she immediately moves to the one tying the wrist closest to her down. 

"You shouldn't be doing this," he says, looking at her. 

She doesn't falter in her movements, her fingers working to undo the strap. It's just as stiff, but she's quicker now, getting it loose within a few seconds.

"Why not?" she asks, knowing what he's going to say before the first syllable leaves his mouth. 

There's a dull thud and a clink of metal as the strap hits the floor. His wrist is raw, she notices now that the skin isn't covered. Like the area around the straps, the entire strip of skin that was covered up is just as seared and red and blistered. 

"Because you could get in trouble," he says, just as expected.

"My dad won't care," she says as she watches him move his hands slowly, lifting his wrist, giving it a slow roll as he seems to try and adjust to the feeling. Though, she's uncertain of how much truth there is to her own words.

A beat passes as she thinks. She moves around the table, to the last strap keeping him down. Her heart jumps at the thought of him being free in just a few seconds, and her fingers hesitate for just a moment. 

But then she looks at his face. Even if all of the scars and the toll that it's taking on him are invisible to her eyes, she can still sense it. Lingering there, underneath the surface. Her fingers move again at once, working to do undo the strap.

"As long as you're not here, it'll be fine," she adds, decidedly more convinced upon that. "I'll be okay, I promise."

The buckle comes undone. She carefully and quickly finishes untying it from the table, letting it slip from his wrist and to the floor like the other. His skin seems to appreciate the relief of being free, the bubbling, blistering ceasing almost right away. 

Enzo rolls his wrist slowly one way, then the other. When she looks at his face, he's staring down at it, his eyes widening just a touch. Something flickers across his face; relief, shock. As if he were expecting it to not be real. 

"Come on," she says quietly as he stretches his fingers out. "You can go out the back door and be gone before my dad notices."

Enzo takes a moment to respond, seemingly entranced as he lifts his arms from where they had been held for at least five days, to her knowledge. He stares at the patch of skin that Elena almost thinks is healing right in front of her eyes before her words register and he starts shaking his head.

"No, I can't," he says, and finally looks at her. His expression is sad, apologetic. "Elena, your father—"

"Won't notice until you're gone," she repeats, quickly taking his hand, lowering it. "We just have to be quick. So—" she gives his hand a gentle tug, silently pleading, "—come on."

He shakes his head again but sighs a second later and gives in to her. She gives his hand another little tug as he pushes himself up. He groans, wincing with every move he makes. 

"Are you in pain?" she asks worriedly. She had thought that he was before, when she was untying him, but he had been hiding it as well as he could and so she thought that maybe it wasn't that bad. Now, though, she can see how badly it's affecting him.

"A little bit," he says in reply. 

He stops, at least sitting up now, his legs swung over the side, but he shakes his head. His shoulders drop, hanging his head. He draws in a slow breath, forcing it back out. She keeps a hold of his hand even as he uses the other to grip the edge of the table. 

"You have to go," he tells her tightly, his voice just as weak as he seems. "Now."

Elena's eyebrows furrow, but she shakes her head. 

"No, you have to come with me," she says. "The back door is just around the corner, I promise, he won't even notice."

"Elena," he grits out in warning. It's half-hearted, though his voice quiet and low.

"I'm not leaving you," she says firmly, standing her ground with all of the determination and stubbornness her seven-year-old self can muster. Even so, she glances over her shoulder in worry. Any minute now, Mrs Lockwood will show up if she hasn't already and her dad will know she's missing.

When she looks back at Enzo, he's still got his head bowed, and his knuckles are white against the metal of the table. But, slowly, he lifts his head, looking up at her. 

For a moment, she doesn't understand his worry or urgency for her to leave. She almost tugs on his hand again, to urge him to follow her. Then, she sees it. This time, she knows it's not a trick of the light or her imagination.

The veins under his eyes push against the surface of his skin, crawling up across his face as if to see which of them can reach his eyes first. And his eyes — they're no longer the dark brown she was starting to get used to on her little failed attempts to free him. 

Staring back at her are pools of red, practically swimming as if his eyes have been submerged in blood. The veins crackle around them, dark and black.

Her heart skips a beat as she stays as still as a statue. Fear creeps through her, trying to tug at her, make her feel it. She has no idea what she's looking at, but she's sure that it has to be some sort of vampire thing. Despite her mind's rationality and fight-or-flight response, she can't really find much to be scared of by the thought. 

Even so, something must shine through in her expression as Enzo's face falls. He closes his eyes tightly, trying to shake it off.

"Why do your eyes do that?" she asks gently, then wonders if maybe she could have found a better way to phrase it.

But Enzo doesn't seem offended or even remotely hurt. He opens his eyes, surprise swimming in their now brown depths. The veins continue to crackle beneath the surface, but they slowly begin to sink back down. 

"It's...remember when I said some things happen when a vampire gets hungry?" he asks, and she nods. "Our eyes change. That's what you just saw."

"So, you need to eat?" she asks, considering. "What do vampires eat? I might be able to get you something."

He shakes his head, a dark shadow passing over his face. "You can't. I'll...I'll be fine."

She frowns as she thinks, refusing his answer. He seems too weak to even get off of the table, and if that's the case, then the chances of him making it out of the room, out the back door, and as far away from town as he can get aren't likely. 

The realization that she isn't going to leave like he told her to seems to sink in. He sighs, but he looks around, his eyes darting over the room in thought. She tries to follow his line of sight when he stops, locking onto something.

"Alright, over there," he says, nodding his head towards the cabinet she hid behind just two days ago. "The vials. If you really want to help, get one of them. They'll help."

Elena hurries to do as he requested, turning to the cabinet. She opens it up, scanning over the rows and rows of vials seated neatly on nearly every shelf, all filled with a dark red liquid. They're all labelled; numbers, names, possible experiment attempts. Whether failed of successful, she has no idea. 

"Which one?" she asks, her eyebrows drawing together. Her heart skips a beat as she has a sense of what she's looking at, but she doesn't think on it too much. He's a vampire, and that's all she needs to know. 

"Any of them," he answers easily. "Just not from the top shelf."

She snatches up the one just to the right of the one staring her in the face._ 79165_. Hesitating, she glances back up at the rest of them. She swipes the one next to the now empty space as well, just for good measure.

Then she moves back to him, pulling the little wax stopper free of the first one for him before handing it over. He lifts it to his lips and tips the dark red liquid down his throat without hesitation. He downs the entire vial in one go, swallowing it a second later.

She presses the second one into his hands right after, delicately pulling the first from his fingers. He eyes it, then her, something close to surprise flickering across his face once more. But he downs that vial as well, though a touch slower as if savouring it this time, having lost himself in the first. 

The veins shift under his eyes again, slithering their way back up his face. She just watches in fascination, her head tilting as he drinks the last drop of the liquid that she's sure is no coincidence looks exactly like blood. 

He slowly opens his eyes as he lowers the vial. The veins are gone just like that. 

"Is that enough?" she asks, her eyebrows raising. "I can give you more. You can take some with you."

He hesitates, starting to shake his head, but she's already turning back to the cabinet. She scans over it once more, seeking something out. There's a small bag on the very bottom shelf, alongside a dozen or so empty hospital bags used for blood. It's filled with even more empty vials, just waiting to be filled. 

She empties them out, ensuring that they don't roll away, then stuffs it full of the blood-filled vials instead. Once there's no more room, she zips it up and moves back to him. 

He's standing now, managing to stay upright. His hands aren't shaking so much, and his legs don't seem a second away from giving out underneath him, thankfully. Some colour even seems to have returned to his skin, though not quite flushing across his cheeks in a way that would make him seem more alive. There's still something dead-like about him, but she thinks he looks considerably better than he had on her first visit to him. 

She hands the bag to him, which he accepts with a grateful look. A small smile turns the corners of his mouth up, and she returns it ten-times brighter. Seeing him on his feet and as close to healthy as she ever has brings her a little spark of joy. She wonders if this is what his dad feels like when he helps someone.

With the reminder of her dad, her eyes widen and reality sets back in. 

"You have to go," she says, her words coming out in a rush now as she realizes that she can't remember just how long it's been since she left her dad upstairs. "Now. Come on, it's just around the corner."

She grabs his hand once more and starts pulling him along. He doesn't protest this time, allowing her to guide him out of the brightly-lit room and into the open expanse of the basement. She pulls him towards the stairs on the opposite end of the room from the ones leading up to the main area of the clinic. 

"Just go out the door then run," she tells him, now pushing rather than pulling. "My dad won't notice, I promise."

"I still don't want him to know you helped me," he tells her as he takes one stair after another, attempting to look back at her and failing for the most part. "You cannot get in trouble for this, Elena. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she says absentmindedly, her main focus on the door now just a few more stairs away.

Her heart's pounding away in her chest, and she realizes just what she's doing for the first time since she first walked into the room and discovered Enzo. She's freeing him. She's helping him. 

"Elena," he repeats, firmer now as they reach the top of the stairs. He stops, turning around to look her in the eyes. "Promise me that your dad won't find out you were the one who helped me escape."

She draws in a breath, pushing it back out in a huffy sort of sigh, but she nods determinedly. 

"I promise, Enzo," she says. "He won't find out. Now — please, go."

Enzo hesitates for just a moment longer. Now that freedom is within his grasp, he doesn't seem to know what to do about it. It's almost as if he's worried about leaving her. 

But she nods once, silently assuring him that it'll be okay. Her dad won't ever find out. He'll just think that Enzo escaped on his own. At least, she'll make sure that's what he thinks. And he'll have no reason to believe otherwise. Even if he did, she wouldn't care, as long as Enzo is far away when he does. 

Enzo makes up his mind. He smiles softly, and she returns it one last time before giving him another little push towards the door. He chuckles, but nods back.

"Thank you, Elena," he says softly. "I'll never forget this."

"Good," she says, tilting her head up.

The smile clinging to the corners of his mouth then fades, and a strange sort of sadness clouds his features.

"But you have to," he says regretfully.

Her own smile slips now as well. She frowns, confused. Before she can begin to question him on what he's talking about though, he kneels down in front of her, holding her gaze. 

"You won't remember me," he tells her gently, his voice low but soothing. Almost like the harmony of a song. "The second that I leave, you won't remember anything about me, or ever coming down into the basement. You never met me, and you never saved me. Forget all of it."

Her mind softens, his words getting wrapped up in it. Everything's hazy, like her head has been replaced with a cloud. She feels herself nodding, though she can't figure out why. 

"I never met you," she echoes back to him, her voice sounding distant in her own ears. "I'll forget all of it."

She blinks, and it's as if she's just been doused in a bucket of freezing cold water, snapping her back to reality. Everything comes back into focus, her mind sharpening. She looks up at the door in front of her and pauses.

She frowns but turns to look back over her shoulder. Why is she in the basement?

Putting it down to her usual habit of wandering without really paying attention because her mind's too wrapped up in some other thing, she brushes it off. She simply turns around and makes her down the stairs and through the basement. 

Something in the back of her mind tells her to stop, and it's like there's a magnet trying to pull her towards something, demanding her attention. She pauses for a moment and listens to it, looking to her left at the door at the far end of the hall. Locked, just like always. 

Her brow crumples in confusion, but she shakes it off. She heads back up the stairs to the main area of the clinic, remembering her dad's warning of the basement being a kid-free zone. Maybe one day, he'll finally explain why. 

The clinic is empty, and so she takes a seat in one of the chairs by the door. A few minutes pass before Mrs Lockwood finally shows up, greeting her with a warm, fond smile. Elena happily leads her to the back room, where her dad's fiddling around with some strange compass. She then moves back to her seat, waiting until they're done. 

When they get home about an hour later, Elena moves to the couch, sitting with Jeremy. Her dad calls her mom into the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone. Elena just watches the TV as she considers asking if she can go over to Bonnie's. Or maybe Matt'll want to meet up again. At her house this time, without his mom.

She catches a snippet of something her dad says. The words _gone_ and _escaped_ stick out, poking sharply at little pieces of her mind as if they're supposed to mean something to her. She frowns again, listening as best she can, her curiosity getting the better of her. 

All she manages to catch is her mom replying with something about how it doesn't matter. They have what they need.

Their voices are then drowned out by the show, and Elena decides it can't be that important. She simply settles into the couch and laughs along with Jeremy at the TV before their parents join them at long last. Something nags at the back of her mind as if she's forgetting something. As if something's missing. 

But no matter how hard she tries to pull at it, she comes up blank every time. Eventually, she tires of trying to figure it out and just brushes it away like her odd wandering into the basement. Everything's fine. She can feel it. Everything's okay now.

**Author's Note:**

> After rewatching The Vampire Diaries for about the millionth time, I couldn't help but wonder what would have happened had Elena found Enzo in the basement of the clinic that one time? And so, I wrote it! All of the chapters are complete already, but I'll only be uploading one a day! Please, feel free to comment and tell me what you think! ❤


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